Annie Beeler! Don't want your mother to be cured?
Annie.
No, I don't. I want her to be like she always has been. She don't seem like my Mamma at all this way. What's the matter with all those people out there? Why don't we have any supper?
She bursts out crying and clings feverishly to Martha.
Oh, what's going to happen to us?
Martha.
There, Annie, don't cry.
She looks at Rhoda, throws a cover over her knees, and draws Annie away, speaking low.
Come out in the kitchen, and I'll give you your supper.
Exeunt. The singing grows louder and nearer. Michaelis enters from the hall. His hair is dishevelled, his collar open, his manner feverish and distraught. He looks closely at Rhoda, sees she is sleeping, then paces the floor nervously, gazing out of the window in the direction of the singing. At length he comes to Rhoda again, and bends over her, studying her face. She starts up, confused and terror-stricken, from her doze.